Don't Fear the Dark
by The Wolf That Waits
Summary: When Shane Potter is given the credit for defeating the Dark Lord, ignored, Harry descends into a world or forbidden books, with only his angry, vengeful and mute mother as a guide. dark!Harry, Wrong-Boy-Who-Lived, Harmony when appropriate
1. Prolouge

**Don't Fear the Dark**

_A/N_

Hi all, and welcome to my first fanfiction, **Don't Fear the Dark**. Some warnings:

First - This is a Wrong-Boy-Who-Lived story. I know it's an over used cliché, but I'm a big fan of it and hope to bring some new plots to the table.

Second – This is a Dark Harry story. I know many people don't like a Dark Harry, so consider yourselves warned.

Third – As a dark story by its nature, this story has been rated M. It will likely include scenes of a violent nature.

Like (I assume) everyone else on this site, I do not own Harry Potter or anything else from J.K. Rowling's works. I do this purely to give back to the fanfiction community.

_A/N End_

_For Dannie_

**Prolouge**

"Not my boys, no! Please, take me instead! Take James! Anyone but the boys!" Lily Potter was screaming horse, trying to reason with the monster approaching her babies.

"Be silent, pitiful Mudblood" Voldemort hissed, flicking his wand. As she tried to scream, Lily was terrified to discover her tounge, writhing in a pool of blood on the floor before her. Lily tried to scream, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper.

She fainted.

"Much better" Voldemort told himself, before turning to his chosen victims for the night. A pair of identical brown cots lay before him, labelled _"Harry" _and _"Shane" _in an identical cursive script. Like the cots, their contents were identical at birth, save the body frame. Harry's leaner frame contrasted with Shane's thicker frame.

The true difference between the boys was how they carried themselves. Harry lay still, his eyes tracking the new person with caution. Shane, on the other hand, was squirming and crying, demanding the attention of the stranger.

Respecting the intelligence in Harry's eyes, Voldemort turned to Shane and uttered a single curse.

"_Sectum Sempra_".

As the child started squirming in his blood rather than his sheets, Voldemort turned to Harry. The boys eyes had changed. While they had previously been cautious and apprehensive, now they were almost _gleeful_. A strange thought crossed Voldemort's mind. What if, instead of killing him, Voldemort raised Harry to be a warrior for the dark? Voldemort dismissed the idea as soon as it came to him. While it had merits, the risk of Harry turning back to his parents or otherwise betraying him would be to great. That meant Voldemort would have to kill him. It was a shame, but siometimes that's how things need to be done.

"_Avada Kedavra_".

Voldemort watched the stream of green energy as time slowed. The stream made contact with Harry and was entirley absorbed by his body. Voldemort's eyes widened as he watched the boy's eyes turn change from hazel to emerald, the same shade as the death curse. Voldemort didn't have the time to gasp before a bolt of emerald lightning struck him in the forehead, accompanied by a wave of pure magic and an unearthly scream.

The Dark Lord was no more.


	2. Chapter 1 - Happy Birthday

**Don't Fear the Dark**

_**A/N**_

See the prologue for a full A/N and disclaimer.

_**A/N End**_

_For Dannie_

**Chapter One: "Happy Birthday"**

"_Happy birthday, Harry"._

"Birthday?"

Harry was sure he was going crazy. He suspected it was because of the lack of contact with other people. He normally thought he was fine, but every so often, when he was alone, he would hear a familiar voice in his head. The voice would talk to him, comfort him, plan with him. He was sure the voice wasn't his, but who else could it be?

The voice was the only thing Harry would ever be able to have a decent conversation with. Once, he could have a conversation with his brother, but a few years ago their James' praise finally got to his head and he would never again look at Harry as an equal. James, technically his father, wouldn't talk to him unless it was to tell him to do something or to yell at him for doing it wrong. His mother... His mother was weird. She wasn't able to talk, mute from the day Voldemort raided their house. She would clean the house, cook, and clean along side him, working together in silence. She wouldn't stop James from hurting him, but it didn't seem she'd be able to if she tried. That was the only reason Harry still refered to her as his mother.

And then there was the idea of his birthday. He knew it had to happen at some point, everyone had one, after all, but he didn't know when it was. And it couldn't be today, could it? Today was Shane's birthday, and Shane was not the type of person who would share a birthday. He decided to tell the voice this, so it wouldn't get confused again next year.

"But today's Shane's birthday", he told the voice.

"_It is. But it is also yours Harry. You're twins."_

"We are? But how would you know?"

"_The same way I knew your name."_

The voice had told Harry many things when it first introduced itself. Things like his name, and that no, he wasn't adopted. The voice had always had the answers Harry needed. The voice helped teach him english and maths when he had trouble keeping up at school. Most importantly the voice had taught him that, no matter what James said or did, whether anyone loved him or not, he was important.

"Then why didn't anybody tell me it was my birthday?" Harry almost didn't want it to be true, because that would mean that he was even closer to his brother, who he felt betrayed him when he let James get to him.

"_Would they Harry? It's not like James loves you, and who else would know?"_

As much as it hurt, Harry had know that for a long time. It was plainly obvious from how he treated his younger son that James didn't love Harry. He had wondered for the longest time what he had done to not deserve James' love, he had cried, and even begged to be told why, but all that achieved was insults and beatings. Eventually, he stopped asking. If all he would find was pain, what was the point? After that, he started to build up emotion inside, careful not to let anything show. When he was alone, late at night in his room, he would let it out. Occasionally, on really bad days, the emotion would manifest in vibrant colours and energy that he could feel tingling in his skin. The manifestations, when they would form, wouldn't hurt anything, and made no sound. Harry suspected they were accidental magic, like his brother would perform when he cried.

"I guess your right."

"_You almost sound surprised."_

"Then what do I do about it? I can't just go and make James celebrate my birthday. Besides, I have to do all the cleaning and the cooking and finish the cake and lay ou..."

"_Don't." _The voice interupted._ "It's your birthday too. You don't have to tell James, but that doesn't mean we can't celebrate another way. We'll sneak out of here, do something fun for the day."_

"I wont I get in trouble with James if I don't make sure that everything goes right for Shane's party?"

"_Oh, but that's the best part."_

-` Line Break `-

Harry waited until the voice had told him the coast was clear (he had stopped asking how the voice knew these things years ago) and then made a break from his room. The voice had given him two options when it came to getting out, sneaking quietly through the back passages, like it had said earlier, or runnning out and hoping the element of surprise was enough to make it out before he was caught. Common sense was enough to tell him that sneaking was the best option.

Harry dashed from his doorway to hide in the alcove in the hallway. He poked his head out from the wall to check the hallway for James and Shane. As helpful as the voice was, he wasn't sure if he could trust it. He was about to dash out to the next alcove along, but the voice stopped him.

"_Wait. There's a hidden door in that painting. Reach your hand into it and pull out the handle."_

Harry wasn't sure about it, but he turned and faced the painting of an old townhouse. Reaching forward, he went to put his hand on the painting to show the voice it was being ridiculous, but to his surprise it just went straight through and hit the red bricks of the house. Holding back a gasp, he took the handle of the timy townhouse's door with his fingers and pulled, causing the painting to fold up and reveal a narrow passage, dusty and filled with spider webs. Steeling his resolve, he let go of the handle and stepped into the corridor, the painting folding back into place behind him, shutting off the passage. As he walked, he marveled at the clear magic of the house as the cobwebs split apart before him, leaving him to walk through the passage without getting covered in the sticky web. A light bounced out the walls, speccling in the airborn dust, following him as he made his way down the passage. Harry didn't know where the light came from, and the voice wouldn't tell him, so he left it to one of magic's many unexplained mysteries.

The passage snaked it's way down to the cellar under the basement. Harry had always enjoyed the basement, it was cool and damp, a nice change from the hot kitchens and searing gardens where he usually did work.

"_Go to the stairs",_ the voice told him, _"there's another passage hidden underneath them, it leads to the gardens, near the gate"_.

"Why does this house have so many secret passages? It's not like anyone uses them, that last one was filled with spiderwebs."

"_Their left over from the war, Harry. Your grandfather was a paranoid man who was always worried that his home would be attacked. He was going to use the passages to escape."_

Harry walked around the aged barrels of wine and mead, hiding in the shadows at the base of the stairway. The stairway was circular, spiralling up and up above itself, casting a shadow just dark enough to hide the lip of a trapdoor, flush with the floor. At the voice's direction, he pressed his fingers into a burn mark on the floor. The mark passed from hot, to cold, to hot again in the few seconds he held his fingers there. The sensation was an odd one, and Harry didn't think he liked it.

The trapdoor creaked open, revealing the entrance to a tunnel carved into the earth. A small stream trickled near the entrance. Light from a dusty lantern that by all means should off gone out years ago sparkled off the moist, rough, stone walls. As the tunnel went on it got lower and narrower, until harry had to crawl on the gravelly floor.

After what felt like a life time of crawling, Harry reached the end of the tunnel, in the roots of a felled tree near the entrance to the grounds. Suddenly, he heard a yell from behind. A quick turn of his head saw that James was at the door of the house, wand in hand. Harry heard the voice curse.

"_The property line alarm! Damn it, I forgot about the damn alarm! Quick, Harry, run to the otherside of the gate, then hold out your arm!_

Harry felt lumps of dirt and pebbles hit his shins as James' stunners impacted with the earth around him. Panting, he crossed the gate and held out his arm as instructed. He felt some kind of force grab a hold of it as his world started to blur and his mind went blank.

_**A/N**_

There you have it, the first proper chapter for Don't Fear the Dark.

I'm sorry it's been over a year at this point since I first uploaded the prolouge. It's been a busy year, I got a job, finished by second to last year at college (high school, not university), got both my learner's and restricted driving liscence and started dating my wonderful girlfriend. Point being, I've not had a lot of time to write.

I plan for next installments to be longer and more frequent, don't worry, biut for now, here's what I've got.

Thanks for reading

The Wolf That Waits


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